


The Blood Oath

by greenhill_101



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Gabriel/Top Sam Winchester, Caring John Winchester, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Foreplay, Gabriel/Sam Winchester-centric, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Intrigue, M/M, Minor Balthazar/Gabriel (Supernatural), Purple Prose, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Scars, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Undressing, Witch Hunts, Witchcraft, flowery writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2020-12-28 23:51:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21145289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenhill_101/pseuds/greenhill_101
Summary: A Blood Oath was never to be broken, for one knows not of the consequences. Gabriel Novak, his king Viceroy and brother, has broken one. Seven years later, a man came for his due.





	1. Cold Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, also my first attempt at fanfic, so all comments and kudos are very much appreciated. I have no intention to drop this fic, and apologise firsthand for possible bad formating. Thanks!

Gabriel considered leaving after the tenth time knocking on that same door, one his brother probably have knocked before. No point wasting time again, maybe the Rangers have already found the cure.  
Maybe they haven't. Yet again. 

The door creaked open, a familiar face, barely pass the shadow behind it for Gabriel to see. The older witch spoke first.  
"Good to see you, my Liege, what brought you to this squalour of our?", the old charade played out again. He doesn't have time for this, but he couldn't barge in with the guards again, which are surrounding the tiny barn house. One week in the dungeon work nothing on them, so it's time he has to go soft. 

"I would like to enter.", but not too soft, he's still the royal Viceroy, the right hand of the king. 

"Of course, our door is always open for you, my Liege.", the witch didn't bother to hide the mockery in his voice now. He knows the leverage he has.  
Damn him and his kind! Castiel should have not been so tolerant of them. 

The same dingy things stay at the same shitty place, just like the first time Gabriel came here. The younger brother is nowhere in sight, must have been in the second room where they kept their reek of foulness father. That man should have gone back to his High Water above years ago. The witchcraft they hold sure is powerful. And damn him for letting himself thinking thought like that.  
Oh mighty Lord, why would you make me take this path?

"You know what your King wanted, I'm here to collect it.", let's make this quick then. 

"My Liege, this foolish head know not of our King wishes, may you enlighten it?", the witch said with his back against Gabriel.

"His Gracious only want the betterment of the realm and his loyal subject, unlike you witches.", he grunted out the last word, too much of a disgusting word for his mouth. He could not waste more time, the field can only lay barren for only so much more. Gabriel drawn out his sword, the witch turned at the sound, just to have the blade right under his throat. Gabriel steps forth until this misery in front of him back against the wall, he pressed the blade. He wants to see blood and he will get it.  
"Give me the cure before I burn you all in the name of his Gracious and our Lord.", he spatted out.

"We fear neither fire nor sword of a little man. Go ahead, use your red court to accuse us, and I'll make sure this land will still be a wasteland until the Novak lines end."  
Gabriel crossed himself, so all the cards are shown. The witches indeed have cursed our land with their abominations, now they're blackmailing him. For the land is their hostage.  
"Ones can remedy such thing, whose carnage they have not committed. We are not despoiler, our cove forbid those practices." like the witch could read his mind. How blasphemous they are!  
He lowered his sword, barely away from the chest. Oh how much he want to jab it through. Instead,

"What do you want, witch?"

The older witch speaks clearer now, "The prosperity of the Novak line could be returned, for a small price."

"Which is?"

"His Gracious's first Born."

At that word, all Gabriel sees is red. Unbelievable, how outrageous, how despicable these... these creatures can be. Why does my Lord create them, these roaches, treacherous snakes! He dropped his sword, used all of his strength to punch the witch's gut. A choked sound come out when he fell down, but that wasn't enough. Gabriel kicked him some more until he heard raged breath underneath him. The younger one must have noticed the ruckus, as Gabriel could hear the door creaking.  
"Sammy, stay with father, I can deal with this.", even though he sounds two steps away from death. Gabriel drags the witch up to a chair, he's much taller than him, but also thin as a scarecrow. The door shut closed.

"Your interrogator did better." the witch said as he sat in front of him. With the flimsy light from a candle, he could see his face clearer now. Long dirty hair tries best to cover the scarred face, new ones over old one, some haven't healed all up yet. His interrogator was indeed good. Unthinkable, the king's firstborn, royal blood, the heir of the throne. His own blood and flesh too, to be taken by a filthy witch. But the barn stock is drying up, the quartermaster can not give handout anymore longer. Even the royals have to ration their meals. Gabriel knows first hand how many meals his brother has intentionally missed. He did the same thing also. It's driving Ms. Mississippi mad with their gaunt face. 

"How can I make sure you witches go against the deal like you always do?". That spark a painful laugh, but nonetheless triumphant. He needs to confess after being forced to do such heresy.

"Would a blood oath be enough?"

"I don't delve myself in black magic."

"It seems like you think you have a choice."

Could he, maybe he won't have to hold on to his part of the deal. Castiel won't need to know, no one needs to. But God will it, could he live with this lies? He looks out to the windows, snow flaking off the ground in the early winter. Why does it have to come so soon?  
"No soul will know about this."

"Of course, my Liege." he answered with a smirk. "You ensure my family safety, I ensure your lineage reign, what a great deal you have there."

Gabriel stepped out of that cursed house an hour later. Balthazar, his commander and trusted friend, come right at one next to him. He stayed silent at the sight of a blood draw on Gabriel's forearm. 

"After three days' time, I want them banished off this realm, and burn this cesspool to the ground. The smoke should be seeable from my tower." Balthazar is stunned, since the coronation of his Gracious, not one was to be banished. All to be judged fairly by the Red Court, then sentenced by the king himself. He knew no Viceroy that has used their power like this before.

"Had I made myself not clear, commander?"

"Of course not, my Liege.", the man now is no longer his friend. 

"Then make sure not a word get out, you know the consequences if you failed. Regardless of the means"

They rode back to the castle in silence, for there much left to do. Much indeed, in Gabriel's mind. The royals guardsmen are not easy to replace.

When he could see smoke from his chamber, nearly drowned out by whiteness of the land and sky, he felt like never before a relief that washed over him. It's done, the threat is gone, forever gone out of this world. The land is healing, for the roots no longer being eaten or wilted. He has done a good deed for this realm, for his people. The Lord would be pleased.


	2. Grey Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, life comes up when one least expected. Please enjoy the second chapter, and as always, all contribution ideas are welcome.

Gabriel hates being woken up, especially from his scribing desk. But the sun cares not about the mood of kings or peasants. For Missouri has come in his chamber already, hand swaying his shoulder. What time is it now, that she caught him like this. Tenth? A dozen or so? Still in his nightgown, ink smeared hand and probably an embarrassing amount of drool covered letters. He will never get used to this. God bless his father and his brother for the work they have kept out of his hand. 

"If one day I found you dead on that desk, I won't be surprised, Gabriel."

"Good morning to you too, Missouri.", he quipped back.

"I already got your clothes at the bathe, so hurry up, you have to hold court today." Only she can tell him what to do like that or said his Christian name, and based on her look, she quite enjoy it. He has no wish to hold the court though. 

"Send in the reports, I could work from here. No need to bathe and dress up for court."

She stopped picking up his letters on the floor, with an annoyed look, say:

"No, you can not, Gabriel. The Milligans, they're coming. Actually, they've already settled in their room in the guest quarter.", she ended with a sign. She probably know about the internal state of this court more than anybody. But she care most about the Novak, considers she has cared for this family more than his mother ever could. God bless her soul. 

Of course they have. No point trying to avoid them now. Gabriel just wishes his brother, out of all possible time, come out and show his face. The stupid peasants whispered of a dead king now. If he wasn't so occupied to taking care of the Kingdom, he would have their tongue cut out. They should spend those time on the field, not speaking ill of their King. 

"How is…" 

"Still in his chamber, though today he gave Lena out to for some sunlight, thank God. But that child needs more than just some glimpse of the sun every week, Gabriel. You know how I cared for you boys, always in the sun-"

He bashed away the ink pot, "And what do you think I am trying to do, Missouri? Go on a hunting trip? Having banquet?". The pot stopped at the wooden door with a small "thump", it's black streaks sink into the carpet, ruined his house Coat D'Arm. White Lily petals now smeared with black. They used to have lily in every window pane and table. Now the sight of them makes his brother sick.

"No one is blaming you, Gabriel." she picked up the pot and turned to the door. "I'll send the servants to change the carpet." at which he replied:

"No need, just leave it…". He felt exhausted already.

  
  


The court was incredibly dull, rows of men in and out, to prove they can't be anything of use. Asking for aid, reduced the tax, bickering priest and lords over insignificant things. He doesn't care why that peasants girl doesn't want to marry that old goat face. Or why flowers are still not allowed in houses and churches. The king is in mourning, and so should the rest of the realm. He still wears black, isn't he? 

How could his brother stand all of this, he has no idea. 

"But M'Lord, is only for one day for my daughter's wedding. Can we have something cheerful? I'm begging you, M'Lord."

"No."

"You can not let the Queen haunts us forever. " the countess's face is bright red, hands shaking and her chest puffed out. Is she… enraged at me? Dead silence falls upon the throne room, her husband completely stunned at what has come out of his wife's mouth. Minutes went by, still silent. It's true then, they all agreed with her.

Anna, bless her heart, drawn her sword eventually then pointed at the countess. "Would you like to have her tongue cut, my Liege?". 

Another lesson of visible aggression later on for her, he noted to himself. 

The Count of Dunkles of course kneeled down and start begging. He also tried to make his wife kneel, whom is still standing proudly. Like a usurper against a tyrant. The rest of the court chitterlings like they are in a summer field. 

"Count Hemsworth, your Lord advise you to remove your wife from the court before I have her hanged for her tongue. And Anna, we will have to discuss this later."

"Thank you, thank you, my Lord. She is just a bit stressed out. Thank you so much, God bless you..." he kept going on until they both scurried out of Gabriel's sight. 

But the chitterlings did not stop. Rumors, treacherous whispers, sealed glance at their Lordship. Plotting and scheming.

Ungrateful bastards, all of them! He stood up from his throne. 

"Your King is still alive and well, yet you lot have already talked about a succession. Do you have any loyalty, any dignity? Duke of Somerset, could you tell what you are chatting about, consider they all listen to you?"

He playing with a hornet nest, he knows that. Abington is a well connected Duke, for internal or external connection. His house was to be rumored of trying to overthrow Gabriel house while the Dispute was being played out. Some say he is still planning, but for what none knows. At the age of well past his father, he steps up proudly but not arrogant. 

"My Lord, we were only discussing the state of the realm. Just as his Lordship, we too care about the betterment of his people, his kingdom. Which of course still leads us back to our King.", his acting is to be amazed at. 

"How come?"

"We are my Lord, to be truthful, as so the rest of his Kingdom is concerned about our King. His Highness absence is troubling, to put it lightly. "

"Your concern is noticed, but there's no ground for it, for the King's health is in top shape. I can assure you that." He said the last part out loud. 

"Then his Highness would have no problem attending the court, yes my Lord?"

"His Highness will hold the court, after he has done what he considered to be proper, giving our late Queen his mourning and grief. One ought to when they found the love God destined for them. But I'm sure that something you have done before too, Duke Abington."

A slight stiffening of his shoulder. He would see that as a small victory. 

"Of course, of course, if you say so my Lord. We will disturb you no more then." The rest of the court vacate after him like chips follow their hen. How has it come to this state, he has no idea. 

"With your permission, I would have that snake's head on the platter for you, just in time for dinner, Gabriel." Anna spoke first.

"So we are talking about permission and boundaries now, Anna?"

“If Inneas was here, you would have to change the carpet by now. And one less rat in the castle.”, only now she has sheathed her sword. Maybe she’s brash, but he has no doubt whoever wants to take his life would have to take her first. 

“Often time I forget, who is the real ruler here when you are around, Anna.” he joked. He should have something to eat after all this ruckus. Then they all hear footsteps coming close.

“I was expecting a lot of red on the floor, Gabriel. They said swords were drawn.” Adam Milligan came through the door like he owns the place. The Avalon kingdom’s Emissary now is taking a good look at Gabriel and his guard with a smirk on his face.

“Just sword, but what’s the difference?” Anna replied. But he’s not looking at her anymore, as his smile faded when he saw the empty throne seat on Gabriel’s left.

“I don’t have much time, Gabriel.”

“Then we will make it quick. Walk with me, old friend, I like to see the garden now.” Gabriel head for the door, head full of worry. His unwelcome visitor follow suit, at brisk pace. Chasing.

They took a seat next to the pond, moss reached out from it, almost the same colour as the lily pad floating around. He appreciates how it all blends together in layers of green, under the shade of the castle wall.

“I still see no flower Gabriel.” Adam shot first, straight to the point.

“We were expecting your King and Queen, not their messenger.”

“This is no time for you to be quick-witted, Gabriel.”, his browns creased. Adam leaned closer to him, voice a whisper. “There is a pretender’s rebellion in the north of Avalon, Gabriel. A lowly baron somehow got hold of a sizeable army. I think they have outside support, others said otherwise. That’s why I’m here and they aren’t.”

It’s true then, the spymaster was right at the councilor meeting last month. Without a male heir and the king’s wellbeing worsened, the Avalon’s court has fractured. This rebellion will only be the first one with more to follow, and no doubt will encite some in his own Kingdom. Lost of family and faith, brother killing brother, as greed tainted God’s will for mankind. Waring time has come again, sooner than he has hopped for. 

“I will send aid for your King as soon as possible.” he tried to remedy the tense air.

“We need no aid, Gabriel, none will ever be enough. I just, no, they just need one man, one man we all know will fix this all!” Adam stood up, how could Gabriel offense him by offering such a thing. He understands the situation they will have to face, yet “aid”. The gardeners surround them startled, but Anna sends them away by a side glance.

“One marriage will make us both stronger, and you would want it also.” Adam looks at a window. Just one in specific, the only one that’s closed

Of course, why would he not? He would do everything to keep this alliance alive, they can’t survive on their own. 

“I can’t make a flower bloom in the dark, friend.” Gabriel also now looking at the window.

“Then barge the door, for once, I’m begging you Gabriel. Or else-” This is the first time he hears Adam threaten him, out of all people, out of all moment. He’s bracing himself for it. But what came out was exhaustion and disappointment, a flag poll being downed. 

“May God forgives the sins I will commit.” He left the courtyard, shoulder slumped and crooked path. Gabriel now remembers the smell of wine when he leaned close. 

He retreats to his chamber, just to don’t see that window again. On this rare moment of his life, oh how he hated his brother.

  
  


Miles away from the castle’s gate, a tall figure in grey tattered robe lay his eyes upon an empty patch of the mound's side. Then he turned toward the castle, striding.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Old Faces

The chapel was empty by the time he's arrived, save for some dwindling candles underneath the crucifix. Fullmoon shines brilliantly through the rose-colored window, made the pews almost polished, untouched. It's just like before when he sneaked out of his Latin, hide behind the altar until his tutor - Sir. Ian - gave up on the search. Usually accompanied by Castiel, who would constantly ask him to get back. 

Tonight he's under no altar and with no Castiel too.

After the evening "chat", he has no appetite left, his foot somehow found their way here. It's a sign perhaps. How long has he stopped praying? So with his hands clapped, eyes shut and all of the holiest thought he has, he says his prayers. At heart hopping the small flicking light in front will carry them to whoever is listening. Then he waited, for a wind blow, for some scant of cloud passing above, anything that gives him a sign. That the Lord rules above still loves his sheep, still look after their step, be remorse for their sins or silently applaud the righteousness. An encouragement for what's he doing, "You are doing the right things, you stepped up when needed, and have become a decent ruler." Is that too much to ask? Only the dying flames answer him, and they aren't talkative bunch.

Oh, how so alone he feeling right now.

For a quick moment, he's thought this is his chance. A chance to redeem all the wrong and wicked things he has done before, ignoring the throne, making a deal with witches, running away when his brothers needed him the most... Sinfull man, wasn't he? But now he's grown up, can handle the mantel of rulership and manage the fealty of his people. Not like back then anymore, when the naive thought of by someway he could run away far enough, the throne's leashes won't get him. It did, for a while. Between the mountain ranges, out of the open sea, behind a mull or leading a caravan full of settlers, he could pretend there's no royal blood running through his vein. That his feet won't stay at the same place twice, a wild horse. Being the 3rd in line of succession, the possibility seemed, well, possible.

Then Lucifer and Michael decided the fight at the dinner table wasn't enough. They have all seen it, all know the inevitable, all failed. His father failed to settle the dispute, eventually killing himself with grief. Castiel tried not to be a ragdoll they like to pull, ended being by both. And Gabriel just simply tried to get back quick enough just to see his family again, the boat came ashore three days short. But man can not un-spill the blood that has been drawn. So now his brothers lay under their family tomb, and he passed on the mantel to the only one left. The day the nobles agreed to have Castiel as their crown king, he drank a tavern or two dried. In the end, he couldn't escape his fate. Some nights, he would wake up with cold sweat and tears, as dreams of "what if?" kept on haunting him. They were still better than "did you try?"

He starts to pray again.

"Should I be worried about you, Gabriel?" Father Shurley has placed himself beside him somehow.

"Hasn't you have enough to worry about the Lord's flock, Father?"

"Our Lord loves all equally, Gabriel. Whether noble blood or peasant's hands, even sinners and heathens. But some have more duty than others." He placed his hand on Gabriel's shoulders.

"I'm merely praying, Father. As you have noticed, my absence to sermons has become quite unapprovable between dukes and countess."

"Those people have neither God or fear of his wrath in their heart, obviously. Men can serve the Lord without setting foot on the church's ground." That brought a chuckle out of him. Times such as this are the reason why his family has kept Father Shurley in their castle, to have his honest devotion away from gossip mouth, which surely would bring on an ex-communication order.

"I will heading to my chamber then, seeing my presence trouble you so much" Gabriel mock the priest, but it didn't make him smile. Instead, Father Shurley's eyes now glued to the crucifix, flames dance in the iris.

"Men are no God, Gabriel, be careful of the burden you've taken upon. Some might be too much for you to shoulder, we all have seen that before."

He gave the priest a reluctance smile, "Only my kingdom, Father, and that's ain't much." 

The air is brisk and cold, mildew gathering on the leaves, for his lone walk back to bed, back to being the Regent the Tempered. Yes, he has heard through a locked door, while on his way to the library. His pace slowed, as a figure come out between the shadow. Tall and gangly figure that somehow passed through all royal guards. 

He recognized him, a ghost from his past, managed to climb back out from the well he has ordered to be stuffed with boulder, then lit afire. Out of all the time, he has came back at the worst possible. His skeleton in the closet now dresses all black, face half-covered by a hood.

"Good evening my Liege," he said with a smirk "I've come to collect my due: Her Royal Highness."


	4. Old Debt

"I've had you banished." Maybe he should not be surprised by this anymore. Based on the event of the last few months, it's only reasonable to assume everything in his life, every possible plans or wishes would eventually go up in flame spectacularly. Evident number one now standing in front of him, isn't he?

"And how could I forget that. You banished us just before winter, we have nowhere to go to. My father died under the snow, and my brother has been gravely sick since then." He says with gritted teeth, eyes full of anger. The man stepped forward, his shadow eclipse the sky above Gabriel. 

"So is this retribution?" Gabriel prods, foolishly. The man's eyes somehow turn even more murderous, then Gabriel was flipped over by an invisible hand. His mouth tastes of gravel and dirt, and his pride of course very much wounded. Not much can put his face down to the ground. When he tried to get up, the hand gripped him down tighter and there's a smell of mossed wood. He shouldn't have sent Anna to rest so early today, a moment without her constant vigilant was needed. Sometimes, to share the burden of your guilt to your friend is a crime one would often commit. He has passed that time long ago.

Gravel crunched under the man's booth, old leather so wore out and tattered, holding on by mere miracle he thought. Samuel Winchester, he remembered the name now, kneeled down just above his ear, "This is no retribution, this completing the deal you have so easily tricked my brother into, little man. If this is truly vengeance, Gabriel Novak, I would have your body tied to five different carriages then whipped the horses. But somebody has to abide by the rules, and killing you, though there's nothing more I would love to do than that, is a violation. No more loop-holes." With a flick of his wrist, Gabriel now lies face up, brown eyes bored straight at him. Witchcraft, powerful one.

"I can not give you what you wanted. She is innocent, what else could I give you? Gold? Lan-?", his throat is being strangled. His hand tried to pry off the hand, but there's only air. Like the windpipe being constricted from inside. He was trying to play this out nicely, draw out more time to come with a plan that will not leave the kingdom heires in the hand of a heretic. Especially not the one who hates the Novak line in the bones. A thought flashed over, to die on this courtyard with no one he holds dear around, by the hand of a witch nonetheless. If God decided this his end, maybe he should just accept as it is. He only wished that will go to heaven as his father had. 

But the hold loosens and he grasps for air, they came like liquor on a fresh wound, hurting the throat as much as the violation itself. 

"Offer me not such trivial tokens, liar, a blood oath is not something you can trick, or should try to do so. You gave your words and your blood, same as my brother, the blood oath will complete itself one way or another, it cares not the will of the oath's maker. We have known from the day the princes came out your Queen womb, the oath call for us collect our due, it's due. For us have done our part and it's your turn now." The man turned his back against him, but his posture a bit slumped. The act of this much witchcraft must have weakened him. "Don't talk about innocence, my brother was innocent and you took advantage of him."

That night, inside the witches' house, he has thought there was never the chance of them retaliate him like this. No ruined power would touch him like it has tonight, for he's the Lord servant. Even the name "Blood Oath" to him, was just another bluff they tried to pull on him. To make him scared and gave in.

"She's my brother's daughter, he's already miserable enough after the Queen passed away. He'd died without her.'' The man has a brother too, maybe he could bank on that side of him. Samuel Winchester started to laugh, out loud at first, unafraid of anybody who could hear it, then small chuckles. The half smirk returned, this time more malicious. 

"Then it should teach you not to place a bet on other's life. I'll be back by the full moon, you know what to do then. And something to "encourage" you, the Oath safeguards this land,as it was the deal. Break it, the payback will be tenfold." He stepped toward one of the pillars. By now, Gabriel realized the hold on him has vanished. Just as he scrambles to be on his feet, the man turned into a raven, flew away. Out of his sword's reach, out of his archer bow's range and out of his castle wall. 

Gabriel falls back to the ground again, the confrontation was more exhausted than he's thought. The barter play has gone busted, no way to capture or threaten the witch and the grudges are unredeemable. He started to laugh, his sanity still there, just that he fell such irony the Lord has placed upon him. A cruel test of faith, a plan only his creator can play out to challenge one's belief of what is true, what is holy. For he finds no reason why all the misfortune could pile upon him like grain sacks stacked upon each other. 

Haha, trapped like a rat trapped itself by eating too much. Yes, that's what he is now, Just a fat, greedy rat who doomed itself by being what is it. The plans to deal with this, to keep this... this secret under the rug flared up then died down just as fast in his head. He knows, in the end, they will all ended the same. He's gambled on a twisted thing, something he was too arrogant to bother to understand it. The price for his ignorant, for his savior-complex and going the short cuts, now is his niece. His brother's own blood and bones, the only person still keep his will to live on alive. 

For the witch wanted only one thing. Dear God, out of everything, how could he have traded it, traded her. He's sold her future before there was any sight of it.

He's damned to Hell, he's sure of it.


	5. Empty Chalice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys would like this one. I know my schedule is quite irregular, so sorry for that, will try to make it better. Anyway leave comment and kudos, it brought me great joy more than you thought. Also, looking for a beta reader, as I notice the writing quality needs more vexing. Thanks all!

He is looking at numbers and scribbles of presumable words which will explain how or where the numbers come from. Or at least that's what his Treasurer tell him just hours earlier. "They will make sense, my Lord, you would have to look just a bit closer". Well, after his eyes gone teary than the court finest tragic's play and a violent expression which should get him the main role in that play as well, the man found his words don't mean much to Gabriel anymore. He wisely excused himself shortly after. 

He shouldn't have to look at these this time of the year, he shouldn't have looked at all. That's the reason he paying fine gold for this man, invited him all the way from Milan, to make sure the Kingdom will not going down mere months into his regency. The man proved his worth, the first example is Gabriel still have wood in the fireplace and no rebellious guards knifing his neck for their salary. The court didn't like the man at all at first, foreign accent deemed disloyal more than the merit of the man, he has seen that in their eye. The second example of perhaps the only wise choice he has ever made. He couldn't care less about what they think now.

But today, the man brought him only frustration and anger. It's not that he doesn't understand the numbers, he understands them loud and clear, that's the problem. They said in unison, a truth like a sun on a clear day, bright and unafraid of any feeble wrath coming from any lord or king. The kingdom has only walked with it's tumbling steps away from the brink seven years ago. One with candor would point out the scratches and old wounds barely healed themself, still so visible of the kingdom. Gabriel tries to rub the weariness out of his eyes, the effort proved futile. After last night he could no longer muster his courage or any clearness between his ears. Sleep has come with sights of ravens, whose pitch-black feathers shaded the sun itself. Beaming gold being waxed to a sickly green. Then bony fingers would reach out for his throat, all the while haunting laugh mocking him, echoing one wordless sound. One fueled by his own wrongdoing. 

Oath. Oath. Oath.

Needless to say, he forfeited the ensuing endeavour to retrieve any speck of respite. And stoked the fire till the flame starts to lick the mantel place. Yet chillness lingers on, between the walls, underneath his layers and after every closed door he walked past. Gabriel felt spied upon, from eyes unworldly and vacant of his Holiness grace. It's must be the witch's work, he's already shown his ... extension of ability. God knows what else he's still hiding. 

Anna didn't ask why he's so inclined to have around now, but under that stoic statue, a question lies must. Lies upon lies it shall be then, he gave the final acceptance before looking back to reality. He can not afford to lose this alliance he has with House's Milligan, nor the kingdom would survive the upcoming famine if the witch's words are to trusted. Rasing tax will be a non-question also. It'll break the farmer, the craftsmen and eventually, the kingdom. If the revolts haven tears it apart yet. He could ask for help from the nobles, but that's only possible while Castiel still on the throne, his legitimacy ensures no one would see that as a weakness. Gabriel has spent too much favours to keep the balance in check, one ill-planned move will topple everything. The crown stays idle, but never he is out of its sight. Always judging him. For his incompetence apparently now, with how many plans he has brought up, yet so fragile a hard look will shatter it in pieces. In the end, no choice or clever trick he could pull out of his hat now. 

Only one option left: killing his brother. 

"Anna. clear the hallway. No, clear the castle. And tell Missouri to bring me my wine."

The buzzing supposed to help him speak, drowning the guilt just enough to lets this evil deed passed through. His chalice is half empty, maybe he could get more. When he stood up, that notion was quickly dismissed. It's still comfy lying on the carpet anyways and he knew Castiel was doing the same thing also. Grief may have brought him to such seclusion, but somehow, he's will always know Gabriel's footsteps sound like. A lesson well learn after years playing hide and seek. His fingers trace the door hinge, like an artifact or sort. The only thing separated him and his family, what left of it. He has had thought of tearing it down, but Castiel would find another one then. At least here, they are still inside of the castle, under in his dominion and its protector. No walls can stop rumors though, in time, they themself became one of it too. With a colorful and convenient role, it could play any play, any character marked with profanity or sacrilege depend on whose mouth's it came out.

Has the pattern always been this ugly, he should find a decorist from London next year.

If he presses his ear real close, maybe he can hear his brother breathing. Simply not being found motionless one morning has grown unacceptable now. How could it, when the chalice is empty. That should be illegal, empty wine chalice. Yes, tomorrow he could write down that decree. It would be marvelous.

"Castiel, dear beloved brother, would you talk to me?", he must have been a bit shock.

"Brother, I know you're standing just behind this door. Don't make me wait for such trivial request." Gabriel used the chalice to knocked on the door. The sound rattles his head than it should. The waves of anger hit him, pended up and inconsiderate, like a freak wave which has snapped his ship's mast in half out in the ocean years ago.

"Oppen this damn door now, Castiel!" he roared, hand banging. "God damned you, brother! Damn you to hell! YOU don't get to get away, no one is allowed. CASTIEL!"

They all faded to silence.

"You're waking Lena up, don't you see?'' 

Oh Lord almighty above, he can still speak! After months, his first words ended up being about Lena. Of course, they would, what else he could possibly be talking about then?

"Brother, forgive me. This wine they make is too good you should have banned it. So this your fault actually."

"Castiel, please talk to me, I'm begging you here."

"What I have to do to make you go away, Gabriel. Isn't it in wee hours now?". Ah Ha! That's his chance. Grab it now, you ain't getting a second one tonight.

"The fall festival is next week, Castiel. I want Lena to be out there, living the joy this wonderful harvest God has blessed us with. She would love the full moon, just like you did. Only for one night outside of these walls, brother." He held his breath, hoping his brotherly affection would mask his terrible lies. "I miss her dearly, Castiel. But you only let Missouri touch her. Aren't we blood and bones?" The disgust for himself, how unfathomable.

'Only for three bell's tolls, Gabriel. Not one more, you hear me?" He wished the threat he's hearing isn't so full of fear like this, not coming out of his brother. Castiel used to prideful and strong, neither once forcing others or let himself being tread on. Now he only has Lena, his kingdom, his world. 

"Yes, Castiel. She would be safe with me, I promise. I believed she would love the bright-lit moon."


	6. Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry about the unexpected long interval, but I'm back now. This new chapter will begin with a fresh perspective, coming from our wayward bird, birching from one of the tree branches. Things get a bit... heated.

It has become attached with such boredom that the thought of flying away grows more delicious every passing wind's blow. The little liar hasn't changed out of his nightgown nor has he aware of the formality and image he should uphold. At first, Samuel enjoyed the subtle pain and stress that man has to endure, talking and writing and reading and thinking again. It's not that he was forced to has his title, his crown, servant, and that stone-like knight named "Anna". Probably a mistake to name something so... still a graceful name like that. Men and their sense of "order". A puny group of men gather around a wood stick and decided to worship, craft a story about a ridiculous miracle so they can reign upon others, the less fortunate of such rich imagination and armaments.

The one and only true Goddess reside out of reach of those feeble minds, those greedy souls. She comes out every night, even if most can see her not, her dress shines of silver and ripe wheat yellow. For the grace to gaze upon such merciful beauty, she gives out with generosity.

In a few day times, he could see her fully once again. While also collecting what's his, he could start thinking about his next offering. Maybe the debt itself, the Serene Goddess has always fond of what is untainted.

"I should have those raven clear out of the branches, too much bodes bad omen, Gabriel. The people will talk" an elder women's voice rang out from the windows. The wind blasted not a word away. Probably the reason of his tiresome to come to arise, too much pedantic talking. He hones his ears to the chamber.

"Leave them be, I don't care what the plebs talk. Aren't they busy with the harvest and the festival already?" Sound of something being knocked over, accompanied by the women's tut. Then there's the footstep and the closing door, this one though, clanked of moving armour.

So the little liar is alone. Well, Samuel could get some fun out of this eventually.

The raven form flew through the opened window without being noticed. He transforms back on the bed, back again the soft silk. Hmm, smell quite decent.

"You look lovely in that nightgown, my Lord." A thrown back chair answered the compliment. The man obviously furious with his presence, but still have the mind not yelling for guards. Samuel wonders how long could he still keep that as a secret. Oh well, the more he hides, the more fun Samuel would have.

"Get off my bed, wicked witch. Dear Lord, you are not even ... covered" the man turned his face away. Usually, he could easily conjure his regular attire, but for some reason just moments before landing the bed, he has no thought of getting covered. Staying away from humans for way too long might have caused that. Why hide oneself from the embrace of nature, of soothing light from his great Goddess? He yearns to be under the woodland's shade again, soft snow traces his steps for the walk into the wood always bring him great pleasure.

He got off the bed, just to walk very slowly to the writing desk. Cool autumn air brushes his skin, the smell of harvest time being replaced by something more intriguing the closer he is to the man. Much more intriguing, he thought. This close, Samuel could see them blushes across his face, and with some magic, could see them also under the thin layer covering him.

"Why are you being so shy, my Lord. Surely only the sight of a maiden also this... bare could trouble you this much. Unless..." the shade grows even deeper with that. Samuel watches the man swallows, still facing away from him. The inclination is well established then, my Lord. How scandalous and he wagers not much or any is aware of it.

He could touch him right now, reach out and touch that bobbing Adam's apple, lay his finger upon that soft neck of his, one now too is turning red. Not to mention that soft messy beard. All of it ever so slightly. But the thought makes him uncomfortable. Strange, isn't he the one in control here?

With a fingers' snap, the bed's sheet flies itself to Samuel and wrap around, loosely of course. The sound draws the man's face back to him, a breath of relief came out. 

"What is your purpose here, we have an agreement and it's yet due date?" he got an annoyed look, but with the blushing still blooming it's only making him chuckles. the sight is quite endearing.

"I've been listening, Gabriel. You should be a traveling bard, not wearing some meager crown. People would flock in from four realms just to hear your made-up stories." He plops down to the bed again. There's something about the man's scent, reminding him of the beaten road, of careless bravado surrounded by nature. He tries to steer his mind away from the imaginations that kept popping up.

"Said the person who's forced my hand" the man seems to have no strength to protest his arbitrary actions, he looks resigned, to be honest. "You must have greatly enjoyed my "performance", as you put it that way."

"Some of it, yes", he pauses, "they haven't had a single clue, have they?"

"Why are you here?", the man presses on. What is Samuel doing here? Fun? he already had that. Taunting the man? Done. No, he's looking for the man's final submission, revenge, exactly the way the man has forced him and his family before. Humiliated and broken, with no shred of dignity left. Yes, let's forget not his true and only agenda. Samuel took one last look at the little man, eyes gazed down upon him, to make sure he knows his place in the deal they're having. A promise yet to be delivered by both sides. For what Samuel thinks he's already known, as the blushes ran back. 

He smirked then shrugged off the sheet, causes the man to turn away yet again, flying back to the open sky.


	7. Honest Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys love the previous chapter, feel free to leave comments, as I absolutely live for them. This chapter would be quieter, but more intimate between trusted souls.

"Are you going to tell me who were you talking to, Gabriel?" 

The question came out of thin air, Anna just drops it out like a feather, yet somehow it has grounded to a halt every thought and movement of Gabriel. His quilt stopped mid-air, the signature half signed like a horse was forced to stop so sudden, the gallops take some more steps to stop. The idea to bat away the question came naturally, foolishly as well. To hide away something, or someone to his shadow is a futile attempt. One that also has cost him way too much mental strength, judging how his facade of normality slips away in an instance.

"If I asked you kindly, as your most trusted friend and not your Liege, would you let it go, dear Anna?" he hasn't looked up, instead choosing to continue with his work.

The truth is his mind is on its last stand now, one can only think about oneself guilt, duty and how all of that stew of messiness smelling more revolted each passing moment. But no one but Gabriel could see it boiling or feel the way the heated steam grating on every piece of his already limited patience. It has made him hate waking up every day more than he could possibly think he could. This morning to be exact, he thought of having a carriage arranged, just to whip it straight to the sea. It doesn't have to be a fast ride, he thought again, he could walk toward the waves and that'll be alright too. Funny how the haunting itself now come back from years unseen, when he has thrown it away as best as he could on that riverbank.

But no, this morning his body betrayed him in the worst ways. How could he felt aroused and flustered at the sight of the witch bare body? Of all the beings in this realm, why him? Years after years, his unorthodox inclination was well hidden, or he might have thought so. One strayed rumor, one prying eye could expose him just so easy, it would destroy him and the name of house Novak. He's read the words in the holy scripture, of course, he'd felt ashamed of himself, what else could he feel? At the frontier, of the borderland and arching waves, men like him and their forbidden attraction to each other could find relief. Brief, sometimes even unsolicited and rough, but still better than nothing. Most turn a blind eye, for they have better use looking at the real danger of the wilderness, not the affection of one to another. Balthazar discovered him or was it him that has discovered Balthazar, it's been so long now. He could not think if it was somebody else, not in a million years. It's also obvious that Anna knows who was inside the room with him just earlier, and why he's gone so red.

"No, because you are pleading me. The last time you did that I have to fish you out of the river, Gabriel. You tried to end your own life" she walks toward the desk, the urgency takes place for the stone face she often wears, "You were a miserable sod days before I found you, and I don't want to remember the days after... it"

, the look has gone soft, but not pity. He has hated that.

It was near one year after he has sent Balthazar and his once royal guards to one of the frontier village, a quaint fishing village none can remember if it exists or not. A way to preemptively shield him for any fallout if his heretical deal with the witches ever got out. A good letter inked with lies and one small fortune to effectively made his dear friend's life easier with no overlord above him. He has let him be free, once again. That's what he tells himself every night to stop the guilt from wreak havoc on his sleep. He exiled his friend, one of the few he would call brother and friend, not blood-bounded yet much more. To cover his own wrongdoing nonetheless. A betrayal both sworn to rather end their life by the blades than to commit to each other. 

The courier brought news of the sunken of one of the village militia ships, it was trying to warn others of a wicked storm coming near. Balthazar's ship.

He has never thought he could hear words like them, short and concise as much as a clap of thunder by one's ears.

Anna came for him just in time, with another news from the village. She saved him from the guilt that day, unofficially became his dearests friend also. 

Gabriel stood up and walked to the middle of the room, he's quite tired of being up he thinks. The carpet doesn't smell that bad, thanks to Missouri undoubtedly, and there's that black spot. Maybe she hasn't had the time to clean or cut it away, everyone is busy it seemed. Except for Gabriel, who had found lying on the floor like this might be the only thing he's good at. Just for a bit, then he'll get up and back to work. Anna sat down beside him, she's taken off the armored glove to run her hand through it.

"I'm a terrible lord, Anna."

"Well, I've seen worse, at least you're not fat and greedy.". He could not understand his luck for having a friend such as her. One sworn to protect his lordship and his soul. Most knights he has the misfortune to meet only focus on wealth and power. Maybe the noble blood is bound to commit most of the mortal sin if not all of them, as a sellsword like she often time shows greater integrity than the whole of some knighthood.

"Yet" he added on while taking her hand to rub at his belly. It made her chuckle.

"You would always forgive me right, Anna?" he asked with his eyes closed. 

"What's eating you up, Gabriel? Please talk to me."

He's been reading a lot since that night. Got his men to retrieve some ancient archive about the witches and their curse, what's their limit and how one could go against it. Even tempted to try to call for a witch hunter, but call it off last minute. That would have raised too much suspicion. All of the writing and the story led to one conclusion, one way out of this deal of his. He knows what he has to do now.

"I've done something horribly wrong, but I can fix it now. After I have fixed it, I hope that you would understand my predicament. Promise me would you, Anna?" He held on to her hand. They are both lying side by side now, thin fabric by stainless steel, a jester in royal's disguise next to a bulwark. How has fate set them up like this, he has no idea. She's looking up to the ceiling; Castiel used to love doing too, then sigh.

"I promise to forgive you, Gabriel. No matter what you're planning to do."

"Thank you." 

He now only has to meet one more person. One last friend to ask for his final redemption.


	8. Quiet Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is just intimacy between old friends and old lovers. I hope you guys would like this, after all the self angst.

The carriage stopped before the militant house, where the once royal guards now looking after sheep, cows and occasionally some overly excited wind that upped one of the townsmen's thatch roof. He gave one good look around him, mountains by the beach and innocency by the meadows. Maybe he hasn't wrong that much, the life of a royal guard guarantee not the chance to see your grandchildren or a spouse for some.

But then a cold gust swept through the small town center, stripped away the last of carriage warmth of his clothes, of his skin. He knows instantly, he is just lying to himself. 

Faces he once remembered, faces once looked at him at equal although they know which blood runs in him. They were loyal servants of the kingdom, warriors against the barbarians and brothers without kinship, but they'd needed no blood from the womb to tie such bound. They saw him and he saw them, the sight is unbearable for some as they left what he's guessed is their dinner. Some grunted, spat to the floor and spend no more glances at him, loudly finishing their meal. He could bear all of that one thousand more. Finally, he saw what he has come for.

A lone figure just by the fireplace, long blond hair covering his eyes, but Gabriel knows who is he looking at. The gazed fixed at him until he sat down across from Balthazar, who now has now resumed eating, for Gabriel hadn't existed the whole time. Time has treated him right, Gabriel thought, for tan skin fitted him much better and that once brilliant blond is a quite sanded, of a man spend too much of his life at sea. He can still see the laugh wrinkles, he has always loved them. Wonder if he still laughs that often?

They spoke not until all except them has left.

"I'm sorry" Gabriel stated the obvious, the ultimate goal of this trip. Balthazar has finished a long time before he said that, but he refused to look at him, choosing the hearth and its heat than his friend. Well, once a friend. In silence, they sat just looking at the fire chipper and dance, until a gaunt boy brought more wood to feed the fire, spare them no acknowledgment. He wanted to reach out, to hold that very hand just right there. For him to take, to kiss, to hold and made up for all the time that's wasted. 

"Was it because of the witch or was it because of me?' Balthazar asked, looking straight him all of the sudden. Gabriel honestly, after all these years and countless sleepless nights, really know not what has driven that cruel, that manipulating. Perhaps despite all the rhetoric of love and praise for his Holy creation, how mercy will save the sinned or least absolve them somewhat, all of that came out of his mouth was just lies. Perhaps he's truly a bad person, the one true black sheep of the herd, grind his wool against marble stones. The men in his guard roster have somewhat knowledge of what's going in their cabin or the way they look at each other. Not once did they bothered, which led him to believe that men like him are more common than expected.

"The witch's deal was too dangerous. I could be hanged for it, Balthazar, if words got out. I took that risk, but I couldn't make you take it as well." The reply sound quite reasonable, Gabriel just wishes it could withstand a couple more second under his gaze.

"I had hated you so much for what you have forced us to do, Gabriel. Forced me to do." He looked at the fire for a second, then back at Gabriel. They sat in silence for a while, just having a long good look at what has happened to the others after seven years. Seven Christmas Eve, seven harvest season, seven summers miles and miles apart. All of a sudden, Balthazar gives out his hand, opens the palm on the table. That's an invitation Gabriel would not reject, he places his own over Balthazar. It's rougher now, weathered out it felt against his own softness, right and good like it always been.

He stood up, then took the foodstuff tray back behind the kitchen. "Let get to my cabin, it's a short walk from here, it's near the woodland," he said after opening the door, looking at the darkened sky, "We could talk more there". 

To which Gabriel replied, "Of course."

Quick steps took them straight Balthazar cabin, which sat just by the woodland. Small and just enough, it fit his current situation right now, Gabriel thinks. It's practically one big room, a big bed with a thin sheet covered in the opposite of the fireplace, where next to it a water basin to wash up, one small window lets the moonlight shines at the dining set in the middle of everything. Gabriel starts taking off his clothes while Balthazar lighting up the fireplace. It has come so naturally he honestly didn't even what he was doing until he saw Balthazar looking at him, now with nothing to cover himself, sitting by the bedside. He remembered that one time, by the beach after a rough trip when they had thought none will make it out alive, Balthazar talked about how even at death, that Gabriel clothes will still divide them. From people he has spent more time with than his family, for they weren't nobly born and their clothes, by law and wealth, will show that. Of course, they were only drunken words, but Balthazar seldom acknowledges his status.

So Gabriel stopped wearing around him if he could help it.

Balthazar's hand traces up his body, firstly from the toes than up to his thighs, up up and up until Gabriel's own hand grab him closer for the kiss. It's so clumsy both started to laugh after their lips parted, but now Balthazar lied upon him, bare skin against the thin fabric. Balthazar helped himself quickly, then he was behind Gabriel, lazily kissing his neck as both bodies fit perfectly once again. Or that was what Gabriel hoped. But for now, he'd say nothing and closes his eyes. It was still Balthazar after all, and he knows what Gabriel likes. The movement became more rush, kisses became something to sated the other's scent, then Balthazar pinned him to the bed, face down. Fingers wander down that place oh so forgotten, even at the wee hours and the empty of his bedchamber. The warmth giveth by the fireplace sweat them more, the sensitiveness grow as smoothness of the touches now long gone. Heartbeat fastens, tried to catch the pace of the breath, of their carnal desires. There were only pleasures in their mind, it running rampage in the veins and it's going straight down. Balthazar keeps on thrusting into him, taking all he wants ruthlessly and Gabriel was gladly giving it. He deserved it actually, no matter how unpleasant it felt now compared to before. His mind wanders, wondering about the witch. White as snow his skin was, lean body which looked impossible based on what he's heard and seemed going for miles those legs were.

He wonders would the witch go easy on him as Balthazar crash over above him and inside him. Then he makes him crash too, by the kisses, pulls, and tugs. Because Gabriel is still precious to him.

"Stay. They'll kill you when you got back. Them rotten bunch." Balthazar said after wiped them clean, sleepy head nuzzle at Gabriel's neck, hands wrapped around his.

"How did you know?" Gabriel could feel it, it's not subtle for whoever thought of it. The quiet exchange in the courtyard, the silent looks every time he passed by, they were looking at him like an oblivious hare on a hunting trip. Maybe they weren't trying to hide it, a plot so public and blatant they conceived and threw right at his face. Abdicate and leave the They know their leverage and in all honesty, Gabriel was afraid. He prayed for the strength and a clear mind to pass this hellstorm, but time is running out and he's desperate. Perhaps this time he won't make, perhaps this time he deserves it.

"I'll always look after you, remember that. I know just enough to keep you safe." Why does he have to be like that all the time, Gabriel thinks, it's making him feel more guilty of cheating on his trust. How many eyes and ears does Balthazar has in the castle, would they be enough, would the old favor be enough for him to save Gabriel. He shouldn't be thinking about that.

"But I couldn't lov ... care for you likes before, Balthazar." They stay quiet, letting the words actually going into their head, all the truth they couldn't face just earlier. 

"As long as you're safe, as well as your family, it won't matter."

"You don't have to remind me why Castiel knighted you. But I have to face what I sow, and there's still Castiel and Lena." At these words, they both sigh. Balthazar caressing his face, fingers' tips mapping his features, remember them for the last time. He pulls Gabriel even closer, bodies almost as one. Almost.

"Then we should have all of each other for tonight."


	9. Coffessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the late update, life caught one up unexpectedly sometimes. But here is it, I hope you guy would like it. Just some moment of truth between brother, first appearance of Dean too.

Sam's spoon of soup waits patiently for Dean to be awake again, the warmth from it could almost clear away the chill air inside their home. Problem is, Dean is wide awake, they are just having a disagreement, that's all. If they were still younger, or in this case, if his brother hasn't fallen ill to the point of no recovery like this, the fight would be much louder. Now Dean is just tired, has been like that for over six years, so the shouting match turned into quiet soup eating, staring at the ceiling and sigh. Long and wilted sigh, the sound alone could drain the spirit of spring in an instance, too tired for life itself. Sam doesn't mind making soup, not one bit, he does miss his brother's voice terribly.

Finally, Dean opened his eyes and tiresome looks at the ceiling, they have stared at each other for too much already. "What if he found out, Sammy?", he stopped to take a breath, his body has resigned to voice its master thought for a while now. "That there wasn't a Blood Oath." The sentence ended like thin and barely noticeable. 

Sam stands up and places the soup bowl on the table nearby, then he sits at his brother's bedside. The hand he's holding right is so cold, despite how many spells or healing potions he has concocted, small and bony in every way. They used to pick up him, leading him through the wood in the afternoon, or justs making dinner whenever their father comes back late from a trip to the mountains. Lightning or sky-splitting thunders were easily shielded away with those hands around his head. Now, this is his turn it seems. 

"He won't, Dean. And even if he does, he and his knight are no match for me. You saw that already, Dean, I'm not a boy anymore. Our father will get his vengeance, we will make him suffer like what he has done to our family. Don't you want that, Dean? Don't you..."

His brother has trailed back to his half coma state, eyes shut from the evil that harmed him. In times like these, the anger came back as fresh wood under the simmering cauldron. 

So what if there wasn't any curse or oath? So what if his brother managed to string a bloody noble along, for something that's itself a myth even in the witches coven? If the two-faced was too stupid to realise that it's a ruse, then he deserved whatever Sam is throwing at him now. Let him suffer, has he made we suffer not? That child could be raised up as a good Familiar, or a good servant anyways. Sam doubt behind those walls she could learn or allowed to learn something besides waiting for a suitor and fulfill her destined role, a slightly more valuable pawn. She should be out here worship the true Goddess, he knows that she will reward rightfully for her devotion, unlike some false god on a stick. A god thirst for innocent blood. How barbaric!

But Dean thought otherwise, and it shows in their home now. At the fringe of the kingdom, between the limbo of rulerships and taxman, whitewashed for half of the year and covered in red leaves the other half, their home is an island that finds its own way to the sea. Seven years ago, Dean took their family, hand-pulled himself, to this place - a carven by the northern mountain's foot. The mainlander frightened him so much, he decided to cut loose everything, uptake the last journey to their final home, no one would bother them anymore. Father didn't make it through, and Dean blamed himself for that every single moment since then, despite already given half of his life to extend their fragile father. The transfer almost killed him, if not for making the last leg of the journey to their current home now. He's still remembered how his eyes could not open up due to the blasting winds and snow. Thick silent coat of white from nature heavy enough to drown you on land. The cavern called out to them, to Sam, it also longs for its rightful resident.

The intention of revenge came instantly by the time his mind cleared out for a bit, made its presence the moment there's a vacancy in his head. That was after he buried his father and done caring for Dean. It was the stone pillar and how his brother curled and shivering on the bed that triggered it, he thought some year later.

Last night was the first time Dean yell at him after seven years, it was just louder than normal a bit, but his eyes said enough. Dean chose the secluded path, staying away from mortal human for good, but somehow his little brother now is seeking retribution and from a noble house nonetheless. Sam could not understand why his brother would get so angry at him, he's now the strongest witch in their respective coven, though many would not recognised it, it's true. No spear or arrow could hurt him, and he has been waiting for this moment for way too long now to let it go. No, he would have what is rightly his, based on false promised or not.

In time, Sam hopes Dean would understand. He wished Dean could see what that man has caused to their family, and that is this debt he's collecting is legitimate. For he only doing this for his family. But the soup is cold and Dean is deep asleep now, he would make a new one for dinner, he just needs to collect some herb and vines before the snowfall. Dean would love some beet soup with rosemary and thyme, Sam could try and perfect their father recipe this. He walked out to the wood after finished cleaning the kitchen, as an excitement spring in him, quickening his steps.

It's the harvest festival tomorrow night after all, and a due payment awaits him.


	10. Aim for the heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys would like this chapter, finally some action of the heart and swords alike. Some bodily harm in this one too so bears in mind. Comments are welcomed, as always.

The fair's lights die out the higher the moon is, it has come to its end and the farmers, traders, and artisans are all packing up their wares to head home. They will now enjoy their winter, their rare respite in silence, perhaps with a fuller dinner table until the snow stop. Children will enjoy their straw doll, their snowball fight, and ice-fishing until their mothers yell at them to get back before dark. The men would gather around the pub, drinking their ale while boasting wild faeries story, of which they swore they see with their own eyes in the wood. Some bard might get coins or tomatoes, depends on their skill. It's time for Gabriel to rest too, his final stop is now and he must go down from the carriage. In all honesty, he felt inside such a relief of never seen before. He would cherish his final hour now, close his eyes and feel fresh winter wind in his lungs, like he used to. 

He hears a flurry of wings nearby, then sounds of shifting clothes next to where he is sitting now on the parapet. He's here finally.

"Where is the child, Gabriel?" at that he opens his eyes to have the witch's face nearly touching his. He perches on the far end of the wall, staring down at him, cold merciless stare.

"They are far away from here now, no one would ever harm them again. Especially not you, witch." he looks back down the unraveling fair beneath, for the first in these recent days having the pride in his voice again. The witch's eyes widen at that, suddenly Gabriel felt that same stranglehold on his throat, pushing his back down dangerously over the wall. The world turn upside down quite fast because he can't breathe, his court attire doesn't help much with the bruising and certain bleeding of his back. Then more weight fell upon him, the witch sat on him now, murderous gaze gleaming from all the torches behind Gabriel. The stranglehold tightened and everything turned blurry as his throat aches, lungs alight. screaming for air. He tried to struggle but that only makes the witch tied him down more, almost paralyzing state. He's going to die much sooner than he expected.

For that, using that last conscious thought in him, he prays for forgiveness from God, perhaps he will show him mercy for the effort he has committed, right what was wrong.

Then he's in the air, not falling down to the ground as he has thought, but was thrown to the inside of the parapet, face down. The pains almost come together at once, his face hurt and bleed from the thrown, the air rushing through his through feeling strange and harmful, how every muscle in his body ache and hot. His head buzzes while he tried to get back on his feet, but resulted in another flop down, his back against the wall. Gabriel's hand involuntary cover his throat, soothing from the unwanted intrusion. Undoubtedly he's no match for the witch's heretic power, but he's not looking for a fight today.

"Do you honestly think they will get away that so easy? The Oath must be upheld, where's that child., Gabriel?" The witch walks next to him and whispers in his ears, the softness of the words could not hide the anger behind them. 

Gabriel only hopes that his plan would be enough, an escapade of the rest of the royal bloodline, of the people who is dearest to him. He hopes that their destination would be far away enough from the witch, from this venomous court. Of all the things he has ever wanted in life, just for this time, he prayed it would be enough for them. That Anna would protect and Missouri would care for his brother and niece. Because he could hear the talking down below the staircase in the opposite of him now, they must have found out about the empty chamber, and there would no better time to strike but here and now. Abington would not let go of this chance. His end is merely moments away, by the hand of the enraged witch or treasonous blades.

"Kill me now, witch, for I know I won't see tomorrow's light. I have made the Blood Oath and to not honored it's a death sentence itself, so it should be fitting if I met my end tonight." At that, the witch pulls him up by his shirt's collar so fast, it sends a new wave of pain throughout his body. A shock that helps see better, more alert. Gabriel could see the frost coming out from both of their breath now, how their body so close to another. The warmth should not be that welcoming. 

"You won't die that easily, little liar. I won't allow it until I get what was promised." Gabriel could the footsteps running the stair now, their rustling metal plate. A group of six perhaps? He wonders who will Abington send to do his dirty bidding. Would he recognize them? How many nobles are behind this? What would happen to this kingdom after this is over? So many questions he hopes to get answers from his last moment if what they always say is true.

He laughs at the witch, "They are coming for me, you should leave now unless you also want to see my execution." he advises the witch, which makes him turn around and listen. He looks back again to Gabriel panting and leaning on by the wall now there's none support, eyes grew narrow, thinking. Then he's a raven, out of his sight almost instantly. The door to the staircase breaks open right after that, letting of group five pouring. They have crossbows and none wear any emblem nor house sign. The one in the middle must be their captain, as they look at Gabriel state and back at him, probably being confused about the possible people who were here before. But no more words were exchanged, leaving the only sound left is the heavy painting from Gabriel. He was hoping for something more dignified, a sword fight even, though he brought no sword and they brought no recklessness.

"Abington sure is quick, I must say. Tell me, sellswords, how much did he, no, did they pay you? Must be a lot to kill your Viceroy, wouldn't it?"

In unison, they draw their arrows and aim at him. Loose arrows sound so sleek under the winter sky before they crash and pierced through him. The forces hit like a punch and just like, he fell over the parapet and down to the moat. 

There was no light, no heavenly warmth just like in the Bible, no angel to greet him and guide his way to High Water. Nothing to be seen under this black water. Only stinking mud and cold water that will kill him gaster the bleeding inside his chest. They probably will kill him at once actually. But he has gone up there with no expectation of going down, or to meet a merciful ending, in his mortal life or the afterlife. It would be a lie if he wasn't hoping Hell to be a warmer place than this moat his father ditch. Maybe hell has frozen over because of men like him.

In the end, all he felt is pain.


	11. Hot Soup and Warm Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the late update, the new flu caught me by surprise and added a ton of stresses throughout last month so I haven't updated the story as I promised. This is a light and somewhat fluffy chapter about nursing Gabriel back to health. Hope you guy would enjoy it, even if it's a very short scene.

He was enjoying a ride through alongside the river when a piercing pain rips through his chest like a bright light, cast away the fog of his dream, as he comes to realize the blurry of the grass or how there was no sound when the horse gallops. He realizes that he has died.

The last time he still has thoughts running in his mind, there were only prayers, confusions and pains. Now there's only pain echoing from his chest out that has stopped his breathing, a notion his mind has taken a liking about his present state. You can't suffer if you're not living.

Gabriel is laying in a strange bed with a thick, warm blanket over him. A strange figure quickly came out from one of the room doors, going straight at him. It's the witch, this time with more clothing and some of them look quite normal compared to what he has seen before. Then the painful cough took over whatever left of his half-awake mind, his ribs and the muscles surround flared up of an internal fire. His throat is dry also making every cough seeming tearing apart the inner side of it, moments later the joints sing the same chorus of his ribs. Gabriel wonders if he has gone to hell and the witch who's sitting now next to him just a devil wearing the cloak of his worst enemy, the one that has brought misery to everything he ever loved. 

The witch then pulled down the blanket, thank god Gabriel is covered even thinly, placed his hand on the worse of it all, murmured something and just like that, the pains subsided. Somehow from the witch's hand warmth seeped through his skin, and wherever it spreads to, he felt better.

Moments later, all that he felt is the leftover warmth slowly dissipating, melting down to the bedsheet. 

Then the witch collapsed to the chair next to the bed, sweat running down from his temple. Gabriel could hear his quiet panting like he's tried to hide it at first but has given halfway through. But he doesn't know what to say now, Gabriel thought. Thank you? No, that just doesn't make sense. Get away from me? Considered the witch, whose intention from the start in Gabriel's mind is his suffering, saved him, that would be unwise. He'd still want to live after all. Is this act of generosity genuine, that the witch has a change of heart if he has one anyway, or is this just a ruse to give him some false hope to then plunge him down even further? All that he sees is a tired witch, and him being bedridden at least weeks or months away from full recovery if he still can. Gabriel knows not the extent of his wounds, or want to know even. As the healing, should he calls it that, subsided and the aching returned, he knew the arrows pierced deeply with every breath a struggle to have. How long has he been asleep? Has his family got to safety yet? 

He needs to find a way to reach them, with someone he could trust, which is unbelievably hard.

"Why?" Gabriel with the strangest voice he ever hears in his life, a voice that's almost forgotten how to say words. That's the best he could manage.

The witch looks up and catches his gaze at him. The focus makes Gabriel feels even smaller on this bed. Why does staying around this man always make him like that, so small, fearful and intimidated, like all of his titles and wealth, all of his power mean nothing before him? Not even his faith has any help, he could freely do whatever he likes to Gabriel, Gabriel the homeless and crownless. 

The witch stagger a bit walking toward the table next to the brightly lit fireplace, Gabriel has never seen him like this, the spell or magic he did for him must be incredibly draining. But why? The last time they met, Gabriel got thrown around like a ragdoll in the hand of a peasant's daughter. He believes had the sellswords from Abington not arrived that night on the castle wall, he would still have died because of him. Yet now, he felt a bloom of gratitude inside him, the relief from the pain growing more significant now as its absence becoming something he could not bear. He has been struck with mortal wounds before but never grazed so close to death's door like that night, maybe that's the soring joints, the bone dry tiredness came from. Gabriel wants to close his eye and never wake up again.

But then the smell corn soup with, what is that, pumpkin? How the hell does he know that is Gabriel favourite?

He opens his mouth and swallows every single spoon that the witch fed him, hungrily and willingly. There's maybe poison in it but at least Gabriel could die full and has his tongue tastes something good. The witch was caught by surprise at first, but continue with a steady rhythm, back and forth, back and forth. Until they both could hear the spoon scraping the bottoms of the bowls. By now that Gabriel has realized how much he has craned up his neck for that delicious bowl of soup, the best bowl of corn and corn soup in his life ever, and fall back down to the bed. The witch seems to be quite satisfied with that, which makes the question rise up in him again.

"Why?"

The witch stood up and walked toward the door, but just before Gabriel could ask again, he looks back at him, but this time with his hand on his forehead and back leans again the door.

"You don't want to know why." then the door shut tight.


	12. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus, but I'm back now! hope you guy would enjoy this new chapter. Just a small one where Sam questions what he truly believes in, follows what he has faith in or what his heart aching for?

He has watched them running the countryside, away from their home, their throne, and what used to belong to them. An old lover, a knight, a broken heart, and a child. His child to be precise, he saw those blue like ocean waves eyes when he landed next to the cribs, all covered from the cruel outside world yet shone like stars which dotted the night sky. So much innocence and purity on the trail of runaways, with few hours of respite and the horses, cried for more hay and bushes to chew on, The older brother stays silent as always, the knight and his old lover bicker by the campfire every night. Yet they venture on into his lands, well, his Goddess realm. Of course, the setting winter causes the journey to be shortened every day, then every hour, which he clears a path or drop a hint for them. He brought fresh raspberry for the babies to chew on, and the lily smelled of the wild field to calm the baby girls when the horses neigh and heave. But they could not stop, not until they are sure of their safety. Sam was so delighted by that, to be honest in front of the Goddess.

Why would he do such things, he doesn't know. He asked for advice, he asked for enlightenment, in every ritual that will connect him to his Goddess. For only Her could give out the answer which he beckons, right? 

Silence. Only the silence of the heavy snow layered itself upon the yesterday heavy snow. His feet stood deep in the cold, in the frost of unforgiving for hours, yet his Goddess answers none.

The answer was so simple that it has cast doubts upon perhaps the one true thing he revered the most, for why She could not give him that. "You can love whoever you want". Why wouldn' the most supreme says something he likes to hear, something to soothe one of her most faithful followers? Just think of all the worries She could relieve him off.

He found himself on the top of that parapet where Gabriel fell down, looking up to the stars once most of the torchlights are extinguished, wonders if he has once seen the night sky just like him. Every time he heard his stomach grumbling, he wonders if he has once had the time struggling to find food for the night. His chamber, now locked and guarded by two obnoxious beings, stayed just the same way when Sam ventured there and remember the first time he blushed. Or how the moat was so cold that night, pulling him up and kept him from bleeding his life out, while Sam rushed sending out warnings to his old lover and the brute knight about what has happened. Sam keeps telling himself he's doing that to get the child.

So why does nurse the wound of Gabriel, his archnemesis? Why does he spend so much time and effort to persevere what has destroyed his family? The linage that has killed his father and gotten his brother bedridden. What was the relationship between his brother and the king that Dean always tells him to not hold grudges against the royal family? That bowl of corn soup, why did Sam make him that? The scent of him, why does it always drawl him closer to that man?

He remembered the blood, how they soak his hand that night and the iron taste of it never left after he dragged Gabriel from the moat. How from Gabriel's throat dying grasp came out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me, please, please..." until he passed out. The scars that covered his body when Sam can see it for the first time while covering the wounds. Deep and old, but never forgotten. The way he almost drained his lifeforce out for him, to feel even the bare glimpse of life in Gabriel. It wasn't enough, it didn't stop at all until he willing to sacrifice some of his own self to stem the blood loss. Seeing Gabriel as flesh and bones, scent, anger and anguish, of how he couldn't perceive him as something other a target. 

How he thinks of him as "Gabriel" now, no longer them hatred words. Oh! The emotions tear him apart every moment he's awake, in his dreams from the faces and voices, the soft and simple question always on those pale lips.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why?"

Always after Sam has taken care of him after he received Sam's unthinkable kindness. Was it so obvious, the feeling of remorse, the feeling of hurt whenever Gabriel has trouble breathing, or how his family got stuck in one place being so close the hounds of Abington? Where did come all of these emotions? This tempest that resides inside of him, would it subsided or will it only raging on until he can answer the question? Why his archnemesis could place so much trust into Sam? Oh, those wounds that the perpetrators he has snapped in two, why won't be faded away they as he wished upon.

Why does he care about who has hurt his family so much beyond repairable? A betrayal of the Oath, even for a phony oath. He has gone deaf whenever he's around Gabriel, the wood could not go so silent like what it should be even after a witch hanging. Like how he has witnessed the first lunar eclipse and all he wanted was to show it his love for the lives surrounding him at that moment. His unrequited and nondemanding love. Of how he wants to shield that person form any type of harms again, forever and forever. Oh, holy Goddess, he's going mad with all of these thoughts and worries running his head. What should he do? What should he do?

What should he do?

Gabriel held on to his hand tonight after he's fed him a pumpkin soup for the winter, cause he believes that it will bring him some festive spirit he's hoping for. It's Christmas, he has heard from the two passing-by farmers. Across the ocean of his own, what usually pushed down, way down. He felt like what's ever wanted, has been achieved, yet why do blooming lips of his attracted him so much? Tonight he failed to restrain himself, tonight he gave in to his desire and leaned down.

The kiss was hot, wet, and more than Sam has expected. Like how he's expected his nemesis won't have a single string of romantic thought about him. How the kiss made him breathless and left speechless. Why has destiny fated him like this, to hate and adore a person so much? Or how much he has returned the kiss. Did he say sorry before that kiss? Did he say why did you recuse me from my death? Did he look for longer, slower and please, stop not?

It was so many words, that Sam could not understand how they all come out from his enemy's mouth? How could they land from that, from all of this tempest? Finding a safe ground that somehow will resolve their age-old conflict. All of these schemes and plotting, Sam thought it would be the best of their family revenge. Now it seems he doesn't mind anything.

Samuel Winchester was invincible and invisible, how has he taken his wrong turn into loving his enemies, to be so visibled of his intention? That kiss was enchanted, Sam didn't even mind how Gabriel grab his hair and pulled him for more. Because he wants more, longer, and forever.

"Why?" Gabriel said after that seemingly never-ending kiss, well, ended.

"Please don't ask, just, please Gabriel. My heart is in enough chaos for you already"

"We are damned, you and me" Gabriel looked up then a sad chuckle.


	13. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of trust, a bit of innocent, a bit of anger, a bit of flirting. A new step in establishing what they have put themselves into. A work in progress which need so much more works, internal conflicts plauge them both.

On the bed there wasn’t enough space for both, so they have to settle for the ends of it, legs between legs and eyes to eyes. It’s been a long moment just pure silence, perhaps to savour that kiss, perhaps just to think of what has happened. The change that it’s brought to two quite different people, different agendas. Surely, an explanation would dawn on either of them by now, for God’s sake and their too, such consequence is fatal if it wouldn’t.

“That night, did you save me only wanting me to suffer more or…” Gabriel started first. Because this man’s motive, this gorgeous man of witchcraft and deviousness, to peel himself from him impossible it is. Might as well save him the wait, the heartbreak ensuing. He remembered it now, from the murky water something, a hand, pull him up, like the hand that raised him from the baptism, anew, and reborn. Freed from sin and anything else unholy, just to have sinned again, and again. He would gladly sin again for another kiss, one that lasts till kingdom come or till hellfire grazed his body, whichever comes first.

Somewhat of a weird instinct, Gabriel’s hand placed itself on Sam’s thigh. Assurance, comfort, or biting one’s teeth before the whiplash snaps. 

Looking away before replying, hesitation filled, “You have so many scars, Gabriel. I lost count of them sometimes.”

They sink into the bed further, clear cold air too avoided the gazes between both sides of the bed, the smell of lilac lingers on though. Somehow they believe the truth will present itself right now, right there. Treachery is tricky and slippery, but always faint taint behind it would give, a footprint if you look ever closely, a trace of backstabbed blood will show. Gabriel smelt that before at court, the signature décor of any place of power actually, Sam also but it was from a different man seven years ago. The man just opposite him now. Funny how he once entrenched himself with hatred and vindication for a man like that, so scars covered, body and mind he is.

Only lilac. 

“There’s still some soups.” Sam broke the silence.

So they sauntered out of the bed and to the eating table, surprised each other of how well Gabriel has recovered and for himself to ever think he would walk again. The time for the soup to be emptied and the questions building itself is just enough for the moon to doge out of the window, starlit night fell on them as snow tucked in the soundly slept earth. 

“My family.” Gabriel blurts it out, not even a question to be honest. Daybreak to dusk is so flimsy when you’re mortally wounded, precious hours that should have carried them far, further he has hopped. 

“They are safe and under my Goddess’s watch, nothing will harm them. Although your niece is slightly unwell because of the cold, she’ll live.”

Breath of relief escapes Gabriel, probably stronger than he thought. The worrying might stop then, for the next step to form in his head. Abington won’t stop till the entire family either dead or tried before the Red Court for heresy, something would not so beneath him to do. The old man has as many tricks under his sleeves as a jester has his jokes, but this no one-man deed. Not even for Abington, so he must have other support from the court. Powerful one too.

The Milligans. Adam.

His niece.

“Sam, please don’t.” He pleaded, just like the other times.

“My father died because of you and while trying to save him, Dean became so weak he’s bedridden now.” After taking another spoonful, Sam continues, “You burned our house down, so too my family, Gabriel.” 

The words are facts, emotionless and objective, like how his financier listing out the annual tax revenue. But this time it’s misery and it cuts straight to his conscience. He knows well that the excuses of being faithful and just merely a façade, what he did was by all mean, rightful but merciless and cowardly. Till now he doesn’t know if the Winchester did actually curse the land or was it God’s wraith on human pettiness. But three days later after the smoke went up, crops grew again and the cattle can drink idly from the creaks. He must be right, yes? Or else the explanation would be he found a sacrificial lamb and slaughtered it. Those other times when Castiel come to that hut, no evidence was to be found. But he’s desperate then and he’s desperate now. The truth will set him free.

“We couldn’t grow the crops. Children, they’ve become so thin it’s just the matter of time till the peasants revolt and hang us, or another country notices and invade our famish land.” His eyes swell up, throat constricting what he about to say. Prickling fire dances in Sam’s eye, searing.

“I burned down your family because it was easier than to see mine hanged.”

“Now I ask of you mercy, something I hadn’t given you. You said I have so many scars, that’s because it’s best only I should bear them.” Such a risky move, but that’s all of his confession. For what it worth, at least he did fight for it.

“Tell me, did you know beforehand what would happen after you banished us?” Stiff tone like old tree bark. Gabriel could feel the hearth licks those words, inkling to a spark.

“No. In my mind then, I only hope to never see you again. But somehow, you came back and save all of us. You saved me, and I’d never understood why.”

“I’d need something else, a replacement.” 

“Anything, just not my family.” Without the throne or his squire or taxman, what else could he lose besides his own blood? The tensions draw out of him, low tie retreating back to its deep blue depth.

Suddenly, his chest felt wet, a small red spot started to spread, but he couldn’t feel the pain strangely. 

Sam immediately stands up to be by his side, hands go under the hems lifting up the thin shirt. Gabriel took off his shirt in an awkward fashion, blushes start to bloom from the neck down to his belly. Without the four just healed and pink wounds, one of which is bleeding slightly because of a tear, the pinkish patches he’s wearing now would be even more noticeable. He tried to divert his attention to how the wound seemed to close upon itself, but no stitches are in sight. It’s to no avail, funny how the embarrassment still stirs inside, despite having just kissed before. Sam must have seen much more of him while tending and nursing his health back to full.

But Sam’s sole focus in on the bleeding, light touches around the wound on Gabriel’s chest, imbued with magic. Warmth run over the tears, and the bleeding stop. 

“Overexerting yourself with sudden moves or high emotion will cause the tears to rip.” Sam steps back from him, looking up and down Gabriel for further inspection. That only makes the blushing stay for longer. He was trying to avoid the gaze, to then hear a small chuckle.

“I wonder how red you could be after knowing how much I’ve seen of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long hiatus, so sorry for that. The next chapter would be posted much faster as I'm halfway through it. I hope y'all have a good time reading this one, and any feedback is welcome. Special thanks for ones who are still sticking with this story and I. Also, steamy smut coming right after this.


	14. In the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shade of nakedness spoke truer than any words, glimpses of skin and adoration to explore and delight, such as what they have that night. But the hounds and their phantom teeth are getting closer, mad horse chasing them with the wild raging eyes. Run they must, but never flee, for each other they have now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big smuts here for you guys, this one is a bit more graphic than the previous. I hope I didn't break the general theme of sexiness I've established. It'd be great to see your responses on this take. Also, more magic!

Smoke-filled dream cracked open when the sound of hooves trashed on it, and Gabriel was wide awake. It's been only a week since that night, but serenity has lured him into a sense of false safety somehow. He's even been out of the cottage, to see it sat idly and strangely in the middle of the redwood for giants. now the past has caught up on him, exhausted breath bored down the doorknob. Stunned, he tried to remember why things have gone bad.

But there was only Sam's face.

The wound has healed, yet Sam's eyes haven't move one inch. Gabriel realized then they were the scars he's set his irises tracing, chasing. News and olds, they circling his torso like rivers found their way around the mountains. Some thrashed heavily before they end, some mere winded clouds. Curiosity gleed in his eyes, because in front it the canvas of battles, Gabriel's battle. Soon sight alone was not enough, so Sam stepped closer, looking down over him. Fingers started to graze his chin then venture onward, downward. Like nobody's watching them.

But nobody's watching.

"Breath." and Gabriel open his eye to it. They went shut with no notice, no sign. Sam's naked now, was he ever clothed, Gabriel couldn't know. The expanse of his stature was vast but not overshadowing, the amber sky in human flesh. So amber was his eyes too but entails something else, the eyes were a bit browned by the way autumn painted the yesteryear leaves. Remind him of feeling welcomed, when he was a child and the servant by his father's order, was to pile up gold maple leaves for him to play in, jump down and falling to its earthy embrace. Chest to chest, space between them was unwanted, by the lean collar bone Gabriel rested his head. Slender hands cast down to the only piece of clothing there's left, to make them both bare.

Gabriel breathed. 

Firmly, Sam lifted him up then the both sunk down to the bedsheet, side by side. Moment of intensity always costs something, and Gabriel's strength drained it was. Hands travel with liberty and they were wanderlust, holding on just to let go. The lust in them fanned itself up when skins became the last border of two, but they were hungry. Memories fazed out after because movements can be too impatient, being too drunk they were.

Lavish the taste were on their mouth, swirling to a point of overspilled. The tongues tried making maps of one's bone, veins, and loin. They worked to their best, with oversight from the wetness they left. Then soon Sam filled Gabriel up, then the rhythm took over. Gabriel thought he was struck by lightning when Sam's pushed into just that right angle, sparks flew so high in he went blinded of bliss. His cock from being thoroughly enjoyed by Sam to aching for any kind of pressure. Sam's breathing became heavier as the rhythm pushing on, so he helped with more kisses. They were sweating, in and out the motion sent more pleasure they could no longer pent up. With a final push, Sam released his pleasure inside him, the entire body strung out tired of bliss running around. The stickiness felt strange to him, but his mind wasn't minded with that at all. Then Sam pulled out and turned him over, dropped his head to give out the final missing piece. The slight lick brushed over Gabriel's cock made the white spurted out, dripping into line and into Sams's waiting tongue. 

They crashed hard into the night, wrung out, sated.

The morning kiss, which Gabriel initiated, still have the aftertaste of himself.

Someone is banging on the door, and he feels completely stunted. The hounds are here now.

The windows opened themself wide on its own before a white owl glided down in the middle of the house. Flury of wings fills the room with its feathers, then Sam's took shape right before his eyes. With one quick look back, he stares straight at Gabriel.

"Quiet."

Kneeled down, hands raised up high, Sam resembles an owl before it took its dive. Gabriel was so entranced by him, he almost missed how the feathers begin to glow blue, then silver-white. Colours wavering while the wind unnaturally gushing over throughout the house, lifting whatever too lights up into a frenzy dance. Sam is singing louder every passing second, though the tone stays soft, nothing Gabriel can understand of course. Something sounds like the old tongues before the cross and its holiness arrived, maybe even before the sight of man was here. The swirling mass keeps getting more chaotic, as even the chairs and the kettle joined its chorus, to the point Gabriel feels like he's going to lift the house upright too. With bedsheet covered him, Gabriel tried to stay at flat as possible to the bed, praying nothing will hit him. Finally, the singing stopped as Sam clapped his hand together, sending everything felling right down, two cups landed on Gabriel before bounced off to the ground. He started to hear water pelting the woodland outside, thunders follow suit with razor streak of lightning defacing the sky. Rain drowns out the living.

The banging stopped.

Sam wobbled then fell straight down the bed, breaths ragged and his limb like lead upon Gabriel. 

"What happened? Are you well, Sam?" he asked while trying to get Sam's eyes open.

"Nothing grave, too much magic. I didn't ex- didn't expect they could found us this soon, so no charm was put outside."

"Yes, I could hear their horse. We have to run, now!" Gabriel left the bed after he wrapped Sam up with the bedsheet, his hand was frigid. In a flash, he managed to get dressed up, stuffed all the dried food he could found in the pantry that fits in a satchel. Sam wasn't saying, he realized in panic, swerve straight back to the bed, he found him barely breathing.

"Sam, Sam!" he yelled out.

"Horses,..." he whispered before passed out.

It's going to be fine, he needs to get them out, whatever spell Sam did probably has taken care of the hunting party. Where will they run to though, if in the middle of nowhere is no longer safe, where will it be then? It doesn't matter now, his objective right now is getting them both out of here, he'll let fate lead their way after. Gabriel opened the door to find a dozen men deep asleep outside, their horse standing idly, some nibling the wildflowers. So that's the magic doing, unbelievable, he thoughts. But it drained nearly all the life out of Sam, they can not be caught like this again. Rain soaking him up while he searched for their Coat D'arm, but to no avail. So they must be sellswords then, that meant Abington still hasn't able to justify using the army or the guard to do his bidding. Maybe he's afraid some are still loyal to the Novaks and will tip him off. Regardless, no trail will be trackable after this pouring

He took their swords, their coins, and their horses. An idea sparked up after he could put Sam over a horse and fasted his ride, he did it once, maybe it'll work again.

They must go south, to Avalon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adventure awaits the two, will peril or luck grace their path, that's gonna depend on my mood for angst or some domestic fluffs.


	15. Dawn by the eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New adventure awaiting ahead, old memories catching up to them. What would Sam's respond be, when his world has completely fallen down now, would he placing trust upon his old nemesis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all would like this. Just a short chapter to map out what to come hit me with the comments about this chapter! More smut

He woke up, dryness in his mouth, and no recollection from when he's passed out from. Sam's initial feeling was, he's not at home. This foreign land, so far away from his root was. Sea's salt in the wind lapping through the windows, a different shade of sun's shine, much warmer and stranger. What's he's lying on still comforting, and so too the shade by the bedside. Bearded, short, and caring. Sam tried to remember that night, so much magic, the raw type and much more gentle than he's usually pulled up. How someone carried him, sluggishly, over a horse's back. So fragmented, like an over drunk night in the fair.

Gabriel.

"You're awake, thank God." the shape replied.

"We are not home." He said, rasped, hoarse. Since when he's this tired, bone-tired, black-out tired. After he tried his best to save Dean's life, perhaps.

The hands from the shape fold over his hand, so much caring. Was it Dean? No, Dean is bedridden, he couldn't be here.

"Don't worry, I took care of you, just rest, please." the voice pleaded.

Gabriel.

Of course, he's here. Why could he? How could he? Those sellswords could have his head by now back to their master, whoever that was if he has fleed. So many questions beckoning him. Why didn't he run? It was the perfect escape, Sam couldn't trace him down, as he placed no tracking upon him, especially after that night. What was he thinking, to infatuate that much to his enemy, to have such intimate moment with him, left the carnal's desire washed over him, placed his full trust upon the man who has put so much misery upon his family? It was instinctual, the way the rhythm took on, take over whatever hatred that he placed on their relationship. Relationship? Oh holly Goddes, what was he thinking? The sun's ray washed over his eyes's lids before he could take a good look at the shape. He put his own life into this shape, his ever will be. Sam remembered, that they've never talked about what happened that night, how wondrous it was, tiresome too. 

Gabriel.

"Why?" Sam asked, just like the shorter man once did, despite the irony it brought to him.

A kiss placed upon his lips, chasted, scared for many parts of it, he could feel the fear through it. The confusion behind it, the unanswered questions from both sides. Then more, then more, until it comforted him enough to sink back down to the unfamiliar bed again, how soothing it was. Then the weight over him anchored him down, feared and anxiety that Sam would be to like a bird, spring forth from this confinement, soaring. But he would never. This man grounded him, no way a cage to a seagull, in hope that all of his would keep him here. More like a nesting ground for the wayward birds, for him.

Gabriel.

Was it merely an image, was it merely a premonition, a prophecy?

"There were huntsmans, sellswords, you took take of them, so I'm taking care of you," Gabriel replied, then he continued, "Trust in me, pleased."

"You could've run, away from me?", Sam knew he was trying to casting doubt upon this man, this so different breed and so full animosity, like he should. How could he not, after what he's encountered?. Maybe this will be his saving grace, his final escape from this woeful fate his Goddess has set him to. Sam has hurt this man, physically and more, he asked him to question his faith, his only bastion of what to believe on.

"I didn't know, Sam. You made me so confused, so in doubt. You said to me, I have so many scars, I couldn't fathom the idea that you'd bore as much as me, under the hand of Abington." The older man said, with sadness. Like his cold's bone would say it, as his life depended on it.

"Was it real?" The question about what's real is so wide open, he'd never expected what entailed after. Sam reminiscing about the first time he's got the first contact his Goddess, how surreal it was, how undescribable it was. 

His answer was more anchored, more grounded elements. Physical weight against his own better judgment. The cloudiest part of his mind has flown past, to show the gravity of situation right now. So now he could see the sunlight, the morning of what to come

Who could judge him if he kissed back?

"I'm sorry, to bringing us here. I need answeres, from someone I once trusted a long time ago." Gabriel sighed, "Would you help me?', and the rambling continued, nonsense mostly "This is madness, I fully understand, so if you wouldn't take a part now..."

Sam interrupted with more kisses, more longing, more comfortableness from the lips. The warmth from his hip, the familiar of what once lost, how could he said that. The grinding from the pelvis continued, and before he could be more in control, the fire spark rode his lower side. And from the hardness of Gabriel, he's expecting something the same too. He took his own tongue down, more and more, to his pelvis, to his forbidden's trail, until he could taste the lust on his mouth.

Soon, their meager clothes took off, to the bareness of mortal flesh, and Gabriel rode on with abandon, lust both covered their vision now for the future. So raw that he's in the moment lost track of the peril surrounding them. All he could taste was the willingness of Gabriel, the come slickness on the slit of his cock, how it so flushed and full at the same time in his mouth. His own cock was hard too, riding with movements, how he wished there was some kind of wetness upon it. Until he could realize how Gabriel deposited all of his in mouth's space. Sam wanted every single mark of Gabriel's scars with it. Then Gabriel's wilfulness traveled down to him as well, with the same passion and hungriness, more suction than needed, so he could see the stars in his heaven as well. Maybe Sam need something more real than that night, something more than just a moment of passions of two who's longed for some kind of physical touches.

They're both exhausted now, especially Gabriel, the man who's collapsed upon him. Maybe that's his stamp of confidentiality.

Sam couldn't tell how many days have passed nor he would've cared. But the figure upon has, curse him for whatever that's left.

"We have a ball to attend soon," Gabriel said, lying on top of him, "I have our costume to wear."

Of course, it'd a costume ball out of anything, Sam thought haphazardly. What else it could be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the new adventure straight into the serpent nest! I'm sorry, as I wrote this chapter fully drunk. My mental health hasn't been top shape right now. Go figure! Inxtociations go full speed ahead, as always.


	16. Birdcage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will they discover the truth now on who pulled the trigger on them? will Sam give Gabriel his liberty to make the plot work? There's only one place to find out, the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, woohoo guys, a new chapter here and fresh. I did have to edit some of the detail about the timeline from the last chapter, drunk me in the past was not a good proof-reader. So might want to re-read some of them. Also, despite how much I love costumes and well-described clothes from the medieval, they are certainly not something I do well evidently throughout this work. The ball awaits!

It took quite some time to look for a birdcage that suits Sam. How could Gabriel roped him into this, he has no idea. The ball was merely a showcase of new exotic wildlife for Avalon's finest "adventure" to flaunt about. But the Milligans were desperate for a distraction, so they "offered" to hold it in the royal courtyard. 

"Bunch of nouveau rich merchants want to crawl their way up the ladder, exchange for the much-needed war chest contributions", an old confidant told him. Not a trick he unfamiliar of, which also means they believe the war is imminent. The only difference is, wars aren't polite neither they care about the invitation list. Gabriel thanked his friend before leaving the tavern, in hand a loaned fund for their plan to work. Drunken fight carpets his step out to the door. A leap here and then, some punches to carve the way. Oh, how he missed the old wayward days!

A trap to be precise, this one includes a very angry magical bird. He hopes that Sam will spend all his frustration on Adam, and not him later on. 

Being so far from his land has been irritating for Sam, the sea is too loud for his prayer, foodstuffs come from animals and why are there so many people smiling at him. Gabriel is not blind, he knows how much of an attraction Sam will bring, with his massive stature and that face. The cause calls though. By the second day, Sam has recovered enough to enter a new kind of sickness, wanderlust. Still not strong enough to turn himself into the owl, he made Gabriel brought him along to the flea market to tips the news that Gabriel of Kansas need favours. Ones he would repay greatly. Whispers and gossips travel further and more discreet than any town crier. 

The whole trip went well enough until Gabriel heard the giggling. Maiden's giggling, by itself was too indignant, now converged upon them. He knew how much of and off companionship they've been showing. What he didn't account for was Sam. Even with locals clothes and a hood, a group of young girls followed them, clearly unschooled of any manners. He's only worried about how the townfolks see them outsiders, not the intention of their younglings to bed Sam. Even more troublesome, by the midday sun despite Gabriel's protest, Sam took off his clothes to bathe in the sea. Thank god only two girls fainted. 

Sam also didn't understand why he was so furious about him back in the cottage. Gabriel simply said he risked exposed themselves and brought forth the hounds. 

Yet every piece felt into their places. A forged invitation coerced out from an unfaithful baron, the cage that's only golden before you touch it, the grand feat of trickling those maidens to sewn his costume up, paid by another Sam's freewill on the beach. The last part was the last straw for Gabriel, simply because his resources were running dry. Nothing else, he told Sam that.

So after the guards let them through, the herald bellowed his name as "Loki of Great North", the last move needs only time. Digress he could not, the richness of the Avalon's land, well surpass of his brother's kingdom, even how raptured it is beneath. Banquet of swine and fishes never went half before the servants pour up a new feast, Sam chirps how nauseating it is. Not a single wax's drop as the luminaires in the shadow cast new lights upon the tapestries, shed no shade on the feather which is the main theme of the ball. Crimson red and peacock green grazed over each other to the hymn of the bards, ruffing woollen coats glaze the ground. Only of the expensive dyes and the finest wool were greeted here. Faces blurred with outlandish attempts to married their daughter to anything with a sliver of noble blood. Gabriel soon catches whiffs of busy-bodies gossips behind his snow-white owl covered mask. Some could lead straight the gallows but tolerated by the uncertainty of the crown. Adam's fear, a dream dangling upon the waking land in front of him. Gabriel would have pitied him if he's not so gagged by the air.

What brought all of them here but no longer have any meaning, come forth by the fourth jester being throw tomatoes at. Gabriel only took the chance to get Sam some, he's been so thirsty. For a moment of brevity, he wondered the life of being laughed at. How worry-free it'd be, having no responsibility, to not care. 

The invitees were to sent forth for the queen and her trusted councillor, Adam, the untamed and obscured part of the jungle to "civilized attendees". That part was added by Sam. Gabriel concurs, after all of his adventures, a man only one full meal away from a beast. And he had met enough kindhearted beasts than men. The winner will get a private accord with the judges, whereupon they would be received prized. Adam sits on the lesser throne next to the regent queen, whose eyes wander on, many chances think about how soon can they end this.

A bird that changes its feather between kinds of berries. A pup went to a full-sized wolf after one human flesh. A fish needs no water to flap around. A tiger's that went invisible from the far east when there's only one eye set upon it almost won the prized. But cometh Sam, Gabriel most truly wondrous pieces. In cue, the human voice swept through the hall. Silent that followed left wax-drop on some unfortunate coat. 

"Judgement to come, for Avalon. Suffer, one or many. Heed me."

Sam tried to flee from the cage when blood starts to bleed, be it small, from the knick of halberd against Gabriel's throat. This was the only part he's worried about, being killed before having that private moment. He's bled more than this meagre cut. Hang him, someone shout. No, off of his head, a woman screamed. This is discontent, how could you allow this, your highness, voices chanted behind him. All Gabriel could do was to steel his eyes upon Adam and the queen, praying that they would know the wiser. The pandamonium lastest, Sam fractions away from flying them both out through the sainted windows, without a care of the plan, until the regent queen spoke her voice. Her first-ever, Gabriel thought, as he has had the same occasion too.

"The feast is over, I have matters to attend to. Guards, escort our honourable guest out. This man's bird will be brought to my chamber." And both of them scurried away out of the sights of the guests.

And just like that, the whole of Avalon higher class and want-to-be cleared out of great space, what the ball has's granted its position on merely candles before. Some unknown soldier shoved Gabriel too harshly, and Sam's protest a lot, jumping around the cage, unlike any owl. At least he still has his mask on when they put a black cloth over him.

"Loki of Great North, tell me why I shouldn't have your head by the castle wall morrow?" Adam's voice sounds so familiar to Gabriel that day in the garden. A voice so secure of what will happen in the next linage yet uncertain of what his next meal would be, arrow or some venison in the soup. He used to have to the feeling too, after Michale and Lucifer, how the fate would turn over its hand. "And that bird that spoke ill omen of Avalon?"

It was too much for Sam, he transformed back and breaks every bar of the birdcage, fully shown himself between the queen regent's walls, a tower of black. Gabriel casts off his mask, saunter of as close as possible to Adam, as they have no time till the monarch called on the guards and have them pierced more than their whishes. He needs answers now and with Sam's magic holding of the door, there's no time to waste. He grabbed Adam's neck, his once only ally that he could rely upon. The royal guards call for men to push down the door. 

"Gabriel", Adam manages to speak between the breathlessness of his throat.

"Yes, I'm here, one step from taking your lives," Gabriel sighed what they've agreed upon, tighten the chokehold around their necks, "Adam, we've been friend so long till now, did you aid Abington?" They gasped for air. Gabriel has never dealt well with traitors, not then and especially not now. They only have moments to find out the truth. "How could you betray me, Adam, for Abington? I saved your wretched life on the field of Morgens, and this how you repaid me? I took an arrow for you." Gabriel grunted while lifted his shirt, to show the scar just below his chest. Adam's face contorted, and griefs flow through him. 

Sam undoubtedly can't wait to spring both of us out of this, but the cause requires more. 

"Abington's news surprised me too. He wanted my supports, but I cast his messenger out," Adam said between his strangles holds, eyes swell with tears. Gabriel reminds himself of how young Adam was to him, "it was an only empty threat, Gabriel." He chokes some more. 

So it's only Abington then. Then all glasses shattered into the stars above them, how the salted winds carried them onward to the clouds. The distance seemed infinite.

The revelation comes only when Sam pushed him to the bed, of what'd entail, of what'd follow. His mind couldn't stop racing like wild stallions without their riders. Gabriel couldn't see it where's it come from, hungry appetise from Sam or his own cleverness. His lips. "Never bleed yourself like that again." Of course, he'd listen to Sam, not to comply with the copious malt he had drunk from the night. His lips make clear of what's not allowed, every swing of his hand, every callous move, lead the final bead of his desire. Droplet to droplet.

No matter what, a goal is set for him the next morning, wrung out of love and desires.

The throne is Novak, and Gabriel needs to see his king.


	17. Under the blanket.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silent white covers them on the road to Gabriel's family, one that offers more time to really adjust to what has come upon them. Heated often left no space for words, if you discount grunted and the "ahh".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for productivity, as a new chapter arrives without its notice to me. Just some heart to heart converse to convey what we, hopefully, you're still following along me, waiting for. Ein schönes Tag, meinen lieben Freunden.

Owls watch over them while Sam tries to gather more woods for the campfire. It brings much comfort for him, unlike for Gabriel. He thinks Gabriel just being wearied of eyes following him. Something these past few days he could concur with, but not the silence has been befallen on them. Gabriel turns away more than he'd agreed, the times he did accept the embrace, Sam could feel the reluctance and confusion. Yet still, no word has been spoken since they could see the bottom of their soups. 

At first, he blamed it on Adam, the blue of that night, found none of the collaborators in the Avalon's court, has affected Gabriel more than imagined. Retracing it back, painted like a poorly lit canvas, how Gabriel has gone blue from too much malt's gold and brown. A sailor drunkness and rage burnt under his skin after the ball, upon Sam placed kiss and caress. It helped little to drown out the ridicules of tavern-goers, or Gabriel request for another ale. Or did they have ran out of ale? When the moon yawn over the foolish of men and their momentous reliefs, Sam has to carry him over his back, forcefully. Behind closed doors, Gabriel undressed in a hurry. "I'm burning", he said. Straddled his laps after having shoved Sam to the mattress, "I just needed one.", he breathed out. Gabriel's hands held on him tight, constricting. Heated, ragged breathes on Sam's throat, "I'm so mad." 

So Sam laid him down, kissed every tear that came out, all the rants and profanities coming out of that powerless body under him. Rage tied up because of righteousness, of ideas to do the right thing. It has lead Gabriel one frustration after the next one. He understood then, a standstill might kill the mind faster any battlefield. Sam held on then, and he has no intention to let go now, after how far they'd been through.

Now fires dance in their eyes, but something else wanders with Gabriel too.

"It will end." cackling woods almost burry Sam's word.

"This," he pauses, like keeping the idea in his head a bit more simmered, "what are we?"

Since the start, the journey to his brother and niece has not been welcomed by the sky. Rains kept them cold on the horsebacks, mists play the tricker to the eyes, and whenever those both stopped, snows seeped through their clothes. Fatigues have worn them out like old shoes hoping to survive another season. Gabriel sagged look doesn't steer away from the flame.

Sam set down his bowl, weighting his reply.

"Companies."

Gabriel perks his head up, no care about dirty long blond shading his face, "Who also beds the other?"

"Until we wish that no more."

What he wanted to say was, until Gabriel wishes it no more. Sam could have flown away from the night arrow pierced Gabriel, seen it just a quick but not deserved justice of the Novak's line. He could have look away from the scars on his bodies, think to himself every suffering was right to fell on Gabriel. The sight of Gabriel's blood shouldn't have angered him that much. His Goddess's words rung on in those moments, he could love whoever he wants.

To be lovers, to hold and cherish their always not-enough time together, to grow old together. Fighting just to apologise, to slam the door behind their back just to have the other head on their arm at nightfall. He wishes and pray for more thing to be.

"You tormented me." and wasn't it true? Gabriel's head is in his hands, muffle the words like snow muffles the world. Pristine flakes start to dance around them, the rhythm jutted and froze with the winds. Some graced on Gabriel's head, a white crown needs no bishop's anointment. A begruntle ruler, Gabriel will always be

"You saved me." and he would do it again and again. 

"I made your family suffer." but that was the past. Acted out of fear. Sam did the same thing too.

"In our heads, we did everything right." They're mostly blanketed by snow now, even their eyebrows are not spare, as the fire grew lazy of its duty. 

"My heart wants to love you."

"But your mind says, we're only together because of circumstances," Sam speaks out the unwilling thoughts, for both of them in earnest, "To change that, would you allow it?" Permit them to be more than carnal lust, something else than the drunken confession.

Say yes, and only yes. Sam's heart requires no other answers.

"What if we aren't meant to be?" his voice becomes quieter.

"Then our love must prove it's worthy."

Gabriel looks straight at him, and they knew then right away. A chance has sprouted out from this slumbering earth, despite all odds. How its branches will be battered, how clouds will steal away precious the sun's embraces, how the reckless will step on it, only time could tell. And Sam prays they'd both be there when all of it happen.


	18. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They met, they clash, they ...? Let's find out what has happened while they're gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wondering, is anybody here? Reading this? Like who's really read this mess of mine. Just speak out, please?

A sword smidges away from taking his life, Anna has always been quick with her blade. A crossbow stares straight at his heart, Balthazar's aim has always been meticulous. Gabriel's hangover head should not be dealing with this, but this is what he's been expected. Just outside that tiny cabin that's the refuge of the heir of Kansas, they all stood with hatred and explanation in their hearts. Anna was on watch, solemn duty covered in snow but still burn with embers below. She shouted Balthazar's name, which brought forth him with fear, doubt, and skepticism all at once when they saw the pair of his. 

So he stands beside the blade, and in front of the arrow. 

They're not here by circumstances, and by no circumstance, Gabriel would not let them take Sam away.

"Please, he's with me."

"Samuel Winchester, I thought I would never see you again." Balthazar's voice doesn't travel far with this wind.

"Is this the voices in your chamber, who you've been talking to then, Gabriel," Anna says, with another inch closer to Sam's throat, "Is this the witch?"

Sam hasn't spoken a word since this whole scenario happened. It's wise of him, as everyone is so tense right now.

"Please, he saved me, that night when we all fled from Kansas, from the castle." Gabriel is tired, and the bright white light from snow, from the sun itself, has not been a helpful companion. He wants to lie down, to have a snap, then maybe some more soup, the kind Sam made. That bard from the tavern last night still sings high in Gabriel's mind.

"I trust his words, Anna." Balthazar speaks at last.

So after another gust, another blanket of snow befallen on them, Anna finally withdrawal her sword.

But they're still not allowed inside of the cabin. Well, only Sam, but Gabriel wouldn't play chances now, it's not another night on his adventure, where he's willingly to bet his soul and anything more worthy on the table. He has found something significant enough.

By the whimpering campfire, Gabriel retells the journey they have had. All of it, from the fall to that feast of lavishness, from the wooshing arrow to the house by the beach. Jealousy gleaming in Balthazar's eyes and question beckoning from Anna. Sam stays in his stone-like state, he thanked God for it. There is no way they would or should trust his words.

"How do we know you're not under his witchcraft?"

"Because I love him." That should not comes out so easily, but now it is when only faith and trust shine out, and he's banking on it. Gabriel knows clearly, that Sam can't use his magic, and his most trusted friend can pierce through his heart and throat so easily. Whatever words he will string on determining the fate of Sam tonight. He looks into Sam's eyes, with the strength he could muster. To defend him here and now, before his most trusted in the whole realm, beside Castiel.

"I let you go, your family, so you owed me then and now. Samuel, tell me now you have not put Gabriel under your bewitching spell?" Such harsh words come out from Balthazar. How many times? Did Balthazar betray him? Was he in his power, rid Gabriel of his misery and salvation? But tonight is not that night, though the question is gathering its forces.

"Were you truly not in this treacherous of Abington?" Anna's voice cames out like wet stone again dull blade, precise and no room for courtly demeanors.

"You gave me a warning, an act of mercy I would have not expected. So I'm telling you now, I have not bewitched your lord. Not now or forever." Sam speaks up. What lord is he talking about? Yes, it's about him, on that fateful day. 

Two hands holding his wrist, he's not that drunk, to be honest. They come as once, on time. He's not regretting now, nor he will ever be. Sam's said, their loves will hold the truth, and his heart is singing out, however hoarse it is. Like a warrior turned into stone with his lover on his hands, a song for Millenium, a song for the faithless and the faithful, their song will sing out loud for eternity. If it's only for the innocent snow listening to them. They hold him down because deep inside of them, they're hopeful for what will represent Gabriel. 

"I love him, just as much as he loves me, right Samuel?" An empty crown Gabriel is wearing, a quasi authority to justify his commands, his wishes. 

Sam nodded.

Joys, or was enlightenment?

So they both let down their guards and spilled out what's been going on.

The King's regent was no longer there, but the council could have not taken over that role, an election is to pronounce, with the most vocal voice about it, Abbington. Avalon has not sent any diplomat or any delegation to officialize the transition. Even in the winter, the farmer and lords have been unsatisfied about what grain the harvest has yielded. The kingdom is two steps away from dissolution, and Gabriel wants non of that. He's been down on those fields, legs as deep down to the crampy and sludging soils just as the farmers have. In the beginning, it was due to his duty to ensure the witch's curse has been lifted, but as the seasons passed seasons, it has more became his duty. The Avalon's rebel has not come to a conclusion, despite the banquet he's been served. Their land, the Novak clan lands are ripe for conquering.

Gabriel turns his eyes to the cabin, toward Castiel and the royal upcoming queen of the land.

"We have nothing but your name. What is your plan?" Balthazar asks. They've been traveling so long now, he couldn't tell him what the plan is, because he's scare. There is no plan. Maybe this was God's plan, after all, that's all humanity all, going forward so blindly. 

"He has been just like always, quiet. We have believed the grief has taken over his soul." Anna speaks out with a sigh. Then they both retreats behind the closed door.

Light dying away that night, with feeble breaths and deceased chippering of the woods in the campfire. Gabriel holds tight on Sam that night, like a birdkeeper held on tight what is precious to him. 

In the morning, they both agree to have him consult the king himself.

"Good morning, Gabriel." Castiel with reluctance.


End file.
